In May of this year my husband and I went into the pet store in
Lafayette, guided by God, I truly believe.  While in the store we found
Gandalf, who was almost dead with the flu, and we brought him and Hagrid
home.  Within a week his weight was up, the light was in his eyes, he
was a typical 5 1/2 week old baby ferret.  He also was deaf, classic
Waardenburg syndrome.  Gandalf grew to a big boy, a whopping 4 1/2
pounds.  He was so big my niece called him the walking pelt, and although
she's not a ferret lover, she fell in love with the gentle giant.  He
was the first ferret my 9 year old great-nephew looked for when coming
through the door.  They'd play together, along with Gandalf's group.
Gandalf and the rest of the Crew made the move from Lafayette to Fort
Wayne back in June with flying colors.  But we noticed that as he'd play,
he'd pause and pant.  We contributed it to his size-he was the biggest
ferret we'd ever seen.  We got our house and he adapted well, would come
bounding up and down the stairs, and he had his own spot under a cabinet.
I'd find Gandalf on his big green teddy bear, laying on his back, sound
asleep.  Two weeks ago he and the great-nephew had played, and he
suddenly wasn't himself.  I found him all by himself, laying asleep.
When I picked him up he whimpered, which wasn't Gandalf at all.  I called
the vet the next day, got him in, just in case they'd played too hard.
The vet thought he had the flu, as Gandalf had the runs.  We medicated
him and he came out of it, was doing fine.  Sunday the great-nephew was
here, they played, again Gandalf went down.  He kept seeming depressed,
but was eating and drinking.  When he got into these depressions he
couldn't walk, would sort of drag himself.  I carried him downstairs last
night, Tuesday, and he just didn't act good.  I held him on my lap, laid
him on my chest, and he put his big, beautiful head on my shoulder and
rested.  He wanted down and I let him.  We keep a sheet for them in the
living room, he crawled into it and went to sleep.  We could hear Gandalf
breathing clear across the room, extremely labored.  I had cleaned his
group's cage, carried him upstairs and listened to his lungs and heart,
no fluid in the lungs but extremely rapid heart beat, and his gums were
pale.  Even though he couldn't hear me I asked him to hang in there, to
get to the vet today.  I went to bed about 10:30pm to the sound of him
breathing, and off and on all night I'd listen, couldn't hear him,
figured he'd gotten relaxed.  I got up this morning at 4:45 am to find
that he'd left me.  All I could do was hold him, rock him, cry my heart
out.  My husband and daughter were right there for me.  I called the vet
when they opened, and Larry got him there for a necropsy.  The vet was
more than stunned, as he'd seen him not long before.  He performed the
necropsy and now I know why there was no lung sound.  Gandalf's left lung
was literally non-existent.  His lung was a massive tumor that literally
filled his chest cavity, taken over the lung tissue, pushing his heart
over, and it had stunted his right lung.  The vet thinks the heart was
pushed over so far, and the tumor was so hard, full of blood, that it
threw a clot and caused him to have a heart attack.  The vet has sent
the tissue out to find what type of tumor this was.  My husband saw the
tumor, told me how hard it was, and said it was half the size of his
fist.
 
And now my Gandalf, who made it through a near death at an early age,
like a candle in the wind, is gone from us.  He was so gentle, so big.
Our little Galadriel is marked like him, and I have a picture of them
looking at each other, touching noses.  His cards were never stacked in
his favor, and I couldn't help him this time, I couldn't save him again,
keep him healthy so he'd reach an older age.  His bonded buddy, Hagrid,
looked at me this morning after I had Gandalf in my arms as though to say
it's all right mom, we were all with him, he wasn't alone.  I wish I
could describe him to you all, how soft he was, how gentle, how when he'd
play he'd do a death roll across the floor, hee heeing all the way.  When
he was well he had the most beautiful smell, like a field of flowers.  I
knew when he didn't feel good, because this wonderful odor went away.
And now I'll never smell that from him again, my little flower garden is
gone.  We'll get his ashes back, and I'm getting a very special pouch for
him.  They're all special, the little ones who are with us, but somehow
Gandalf was a touch more special, because he'd had such a hard time.
 
Sandee, please make sure he's there, and has met Socks, Suzy, Jill,
Nelly, Bailey, Nibbles, and Chili, the other members of my Crew who are
there.  Please tell him I miss him so very much, as does the rest of my
family.  My great nephew was so sad and shocked, and followed me tonight
while we both took care of the fuzzies and allowed them to help us
through this ordeal.
 
My dear friend, Wolfy, sent me something that another dear friend, Kat,
sent her.  A saying that for the losses we have at Christmas is because
maybe God wants special people and babies with Him for His Christmas.  I
know he got a very special baby when Gandalf went home to him.  Folks,
hold your babies tight, play with them.  It doesn't matter what age it is
when they leave us, the hurt and the hole is so huge.  I've not lost a
little one this young, and it is such a shock.  Take care my Gandalf, my
Gandy-Alf, my Gandy man.  You were truly my Candle in the Wind-a truly
bright light extinguished far too soon.  I didn't even get to tell you of
the Bridge all the way, I mentioned it to you because I didn't think
you'd leave me so soon, too soon.
 
Rebecca and the sad Crew of Merry Mayhem
"Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy, and
 taste good with ketchup"
"Support bacteria, it's the only culture some people have"
[Posted in FML issue 4001]